


The Name’s Theseus, Bitch

by Sunshine_3



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Assumed Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Eventual fighting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Lots of swearing cause it’s Tommy, Non-Permanent Character Death, Phil is traumatized and sad, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, SBI boys- I love them all, Sibling dynamic, Suicidal Thoughts, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), give this man some therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshine_3/pseuds/Sunshine_3
Summary: Tommy runs.He runs from Dream, from the exploded Logstedshire, from the hurt and betrayal.He doesn’t really have a plan, but as long as he’s safe from the heat of the flames, Tommy will be ok.When Techno finds him half dead in a snow bank, the Blood God begs to differ.————————Basically, Tommy is a mess, Techno is just confused, Phil is a Sad Dad™️ and Dream really needs his ass kicked.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 103
Kudos: 867





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Guess who has a brand new obsession!
> 
> This is my first time writing anything for the Dream SMP so f if this is horribly OOC. And I’m dying inside over the rejection of the SBI family dynamic, but I can still have Techno protecting Tommy in my heart. Pry them from my cold, dead hands.
> 
> Enjoy! ;)
> 
> TW: Some suicidal ideation/thoughts

After Dream left, Tommy ran.

Tommy ran, sprinting away from the roaring flames and the choking taste of ash on his tongue. He ran from the burns pulsing on his skin, ran from the tears pouring down his face.

He ran, and left the charred remains of Logstedshire to rot behind him.

——————

When Tommy had made up his mind to live, he hadn’t really thought of a plan. His mind had been screaming at him to _go- run- get away from heat and flames and Dream with TNT and **burning**_ \- so he ran to the coldest place he knew.

The Arctic.

Tommy didn’t notice at first as the temperature began to drop, the fever of adrenaline and panic boiling under his skin, shielding him from the cold.

He paused when his bare foot finally touched snow, the powder sticking to his skin like a cool blessing. Turning to look over his shoulder, a semi-crazed laugh burst out of his mouth as he stared at the plains he had blindly run through.

He knew he had no plan. Hell, he had no idea what he was going to do. But with his foot in the snow and back to the smoke, Tommy knew with a certainty that anything would be better than staying behind.

And so he moved forward.

Tommy trudged his way through the snow, at first exhilarated by the cold air that nipped at his cheeks and seeped into his tattered clothing.

But as time went on, the excitement faded. The cold set in.

Tommy began to panic.

He had nowhere to go. Dream wouldn’t want him back. _I shouldn’t have run away. He was my only friend- why would I run?_

“No.” Tommy said aloud through gritted teeth, “He wasn’t my friend. Dream was just there to _watch me_ , the green bastard. I’m doing the right thing.”

Yet as the sun crawled towards the horizon and it began to snow, a part of Tommy began to doubt.

———————

Tommyinnit knew he was going to die. 

He couldn’t feel his left foot. His hands were stiff and numb, nose and cheeks stinging from the freezing wind and snow that pelted his chilled skin. And worst of all, he was so _tired_. Invisible weights dragged down his limbs as he slogged through the snow, shaking so hard his bones were rattling.

Maybe he should just go back.

(Tommy resolutely ignored the nagging voice telling him that he didn’t know which way _was_ back.)

He looked up, squinting through the flakes clinging to his eyelashes. The sun was going to set soon. And deep down, Tommy knew he wasn’t going to live through the night like this. Not without a weapon, or shelter, or some form of heat because he was so _fucking cold_ -

Tommy stumbled over a log hidden in a snow bank and crashed into the snow, stiff arms flailing and ultimately failing to catch him as he tumbled into the drift.

The snow burned like fire, and Tommy felt helpless to move as the last dredges of heat and hope were sucked from his tired limbs.

He struggled onto his back and lay there, skin burning with the cold, and feeling so, so numb.

Tiny flakes drifted down and settled on his frozen cheeks, melting and trickling down to his neck. The sky above was a pale grey, overcast in the strange, glow-y sort of way only snow storms were. There was utter silence in the clearing he had collapsed in, just a faint whooshing of the wind through the branches of the pines he had stumbled out of.

It was almost peaceful.

 _Of all the places to die, this isn’t the worst._ He thought sluggishly. _Beats a fuckin’ lava pool, anyways._

Tommy was dragged out of his morose thoughts by the snapping of a twig, body hardly tensing despite his sudden anxiety.

The once peaceful quiet became suffocating as he strained to hear something-anything- in the hush brought by the snow.

Another snap.

Faintly, he could hear the crunching of snow as something- no, _someone_ \- made their way through the woods towards his snow bank.

Had Dream found him?

_Had Dream found him?_

The crunching of snow grew louder as the person approached, and Tommy would’ve run, crawled even, if his limbs hadn’t felt like lead. His mind screamed at him to escape, to get away before he got hurt again, before more pain and explosions and fire- 

Instead, he just closed his eyes, focusing on the fading sensation of snowflakes melting on his skin.

He could hear them muttering now, the words cutting through the stifling silence of the snowfall.

“...left something on my lawn again, those idiots. I swear, they have nothing better to do than ruin my real estate value-“

The low grumbling stopped abruptly, along with the footsteps, as if the person had frozen in shock.

Tommy painfully cracked open his eyes in an attempt to see who it was, but found he couldn’t turn his head despite how hard he tried. 

Hell, he couldn’t move anything really.

His feeble attempts to _move_ , to see what was going on because he wasn’t _safe_ anymore and thoughts of _oh god run they’re gonna hurt me, I’m going to **die**_ were interrupted by the soft whump of someone kneeling in the snow beside him.

_He was going to die._

_(Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.)_

Pale blue cloth and something pink entered his line of vision, but Tommy’s sad efforts to flinch away from the movement were useless. 

“Please- please don’t hurt me,” he managed to croak. “Please, I-“ 

There was a gentle hand on his face. 

And _fuck_ \- it _burned_ it was so warm. His numb cheek felt like it was ablaze, and he gathered up the last of his strength to be able to lean into the touch, suddenly craving the warmth like never before. 

Shit, he was cold. 

Tommy could feel eyes raking over his face, taking in the mess he knew to be there. The sunken cheeks, the glazed, dull eyes above dark and heavy bags, all surrounded by various cuts and bruises that had failed to heal like they should’ve. 

The person above him sucked in a quick breath. It sounded strangled, as if the air had gotten caught in their throat on the way in. 

“Shit, Theseus,” they whispered, hand pressing more firmly into his cheek. “What the fuck happened to you?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m planning on at least another chapter with Techno’s POV of helping Tommy ya know, not die. Might add a third with him beating Dream’s ass because it’s cathartic and that green bastard needs a good smack upside the head /rp.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hopefully I’ll have the next chapter up in a couple of days or so ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno takes Tommy home, and most definitely does _not_ care about him. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, I have no idea how to write Techno so I made something up, and it's definitely OOC. That's fine.
> 
> I have never written a chapter so quickly despite having no plan. I've got three separate essays to write for AP Lit and here I am, writing Minecraft fan fiction. 
> 
> I-
> 
> help me. 
> 
> P.s. Thanks for all the love so far, I appreciate the fun comments and all the kudos so much. :)

Techno stared down at the horribly pale face under his hand. 

There were snowflakes in the kid’s eyelashes, and his lips were a mottled purple, bloody from where they’d split from the harsh, dry cold. His cheeks were sunken, and there were an absurd amount of bruises and scratches on his face, as if Tommy had been pelted with rocks of some kind, or face planted repeatedly in a gravel patch. Knowing the reckless teen’s track record, Techno wouldn’t have been surprised if-

 _Shrapnel._ The voices interrupted. _**The TNT.** Dream he- Tommy’s hurt! Explosion- **DREAM DID IT.**_

Techno took it all in, confused by the sudden yelling, but storing the information away never the less. He would take any input he could get with this situation, however disorganized, as the whole thing becoming more complicated by the second. 

He focused back on Tommy, lying stiff in the snow, and let the voices fade back into white noise. 

Techno winced.

Sure, the eye bags, scrapes and bruises were bad, but the worst part-

The worst part was Tommy’s skin.

It was like marble; stiff, white, and positively freezing. Shit.

He snapped himself out of his trance as Tommy sighed, eyes fluttering closed again, tension bleeding out of the kid’s limbs. (Not entirely, though. Even unconscious his body seemed to be unable to relax, and the retiree took note of that as well.) Techno wrenched his hand away from the icy cheek and fumbled for his cape, usually nimble fingers fumbling with the clasps. 

The heavy velvet was thrown over the unconscious Tommy, and Techno gently pushed his arms under the kid’s back and knees. Techno easily rose to his feet-

And stumbled.

Not because of the weight. 

No. The opposite.

Tommy was disgustingly light.

Even wrapped in the heavy cape, Techno could feel bony hips and shoulders digging into his chest, startled by the absence of the weight that should be there. 

_Why wasn’t it there?_

Techno’s arms tightened around Tommy, holding the unconscious boy close as they made a mad dash for his cabin. They weren’t far, but the sun was going down and with Tommy in his arms, fighting off mobs was out of the question. Not to mention how quickly the temperature dropped in the tundra without the sun to warm it. He wasn’t panicked of course. Technoblade didn’t _panic_. It was just… 

His steps faltered for a second. 

It was just… reasonable concern. Tommy was Phil’s kid after all. He wouldn’t want to be the one to break the news to his oldest friend that his son had died.

 _His second son._ Chat whispered. 

Techno grunted quietly in response, refusing to think about it. He dashed up the stairs of the cabin and kicked open the door, bursting through into the comfortable heat before spinning to kick it closed again. The fire was still going, and he carefully hoisted the body in his arms over one shoulder to drag an arm chair as close to the flames as he could. 

He gingerly set Tommy down, still swaddled in the cape like an overly tall, bony, and bothersome baby. Checking to make sure the kid was still breathing, he pulled off his armor, piling it haphazardly by the door and darting up the ladder, returning moments later, arms laden with sweaters and old woolen pants.

He set them on the floor, freeing his hands as he circled to Tommy’s feet, intending to take off the kid’s most likely sopping shoes. Techno blinked. Tommy’s feet were bare, aside from one extremely dirty and torn sock on his left foot. The right had been poorly wrapped in old bandages, in what seemed to be a last ditch effort to protect the now battered sole.

Techno frowned, something sick and heavy settling in his gut. 

He moved around Tommy, unwrapping the cloak from his tiny body- God, why was he so _small_?- brows pinching further as he took in the sorry state of his clothes.

Well, clothes was a strong word. They were more of rags, really, the familiar red and white shirt grubby, torn in some places and singed in others. The pants weren’t any better, torn and dirty, sopping wet with melted snow. More bruising and cuts could bee seen through the holes, looking even more garish in comparison to the pale complexion caused by hypothermia.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy”, he muttered, cutting off the tattered shirt and tossing it aside. The little shit might yell at him for ruining his precious wardrobe later, but it was dirty and smelled and was not worth the effort to fix it. 

Techno tensed as he looked down, jaw clenching so hard that it ached. Every one of Tommy’s ribs were visible. 

“What the _fuck_ ,” he hissed. “Chat, what the hell is this? Wasn’t he just in exile or something? Why is he a skeleton?“

_Tommy’s hurt! PROTECTNO- **Dream did it.** Sadinnit. Sadinnit. Sadinnit. IT WAS DREAM_

“Dream, huh?”

_YES. **Green boy GREEN BOY-** It was him!_

He looked down at Tommy, who had begun to shiver. Distantly, a part of his brain told him that was a good thing, that it meant he was warming up. 

Instead, it just made his fists clench even tighter. Fucking Dream. Sure, he respected the man’s penchant for chaos. Admired it even. Hell, they had teamed up together, two powerful entities working for a common goal. 

But this? Hurting a child? Sure, Tommy was irritating as all hell, and sure, the kid needed a reality check- 

_“You wanna be a hero, Tommy?”_

But this wasn’t a wake up call. This was… 

_“THEN DIE LIKE ONE!”_

Techno cringed. 

This was bad. 

(He ignored the guilt that had begun to swirl in his stomach.) 

Tommy let out a small groan, body trembling in earnest now. Techno huffed out a breath, slowly unclenching his fists and getting back to the task at hand. He snatched the soft clothes off the floor and carefully maneuvered Tommy into them. 

He threw the cape back over Tommy and turned to leave the room, probably to find something useful to do, like hide in his basement and avoid this entire uncomfortable situation- but paused. 

Techno looked down at Tommy, still violently shivering, lips a pale blue, cheeks still abnormally white. He sighed, exasperated, before reaching down to scoop Tommy up once again. 

“What am I doing? He’s fine. This is so entirely unnecessary- don’t know what I’m thinkin’-“ He complained, settling down in the chair and pulling Tommy into his lap, resting the boy’s head on his shoulder. 

_Technosoft! **Brotherblade-** Look at him, the caring LOSER_

“Ha ha Chat, very funny. You’re hilarious, really. I’ve never been more amused.” 

He glanced down at Tommy’s messy and tangled hair, the kid’s sleeping face hidden in the fluff of the cape’s collar. Tommy shivered violently, trembling from head to toe, and Techno held him a little tighter, pulled close to his chest. 

He sighed again. Gone soft, indeed. A man goes into retirement _once_ and loses all credibility. If Phil were here, the man would be laughing at him, no doubt. Techno made a mental note (he really needed to use his actual notebook more often) to message his friend soon to tell him to come pick up his gremlin offspring. Despite Chat’s excitement, he wasn’t _that_ fond of the kid. No way was he dealing with Tommy alone, especially like this. Who knew how messed up he was, going off of the kid’s shitty appearance alone. 

His mind flashed back to when he had found Tommy in the snow, barely visible, a small splotch of red in a vast expanse of white. 

Wide, greyed-out eyes, lips trembling, stiff and numb from cold. 

_“Please- please don’t hurt me.”_

He forced his hold on Tommy to loosen a little, tensed muscles gripping too hard as his vision went red at the edges. 

If Dream was really behind all this- the obvious malnutrition, the injuries, the fucking _pleading_ to not be hurt- 

Irritating or no, Tommy was still Phil’s kid. 

_(He was still Techno’s family)_. 

If Dream was behind all this, and was idiotic enough to show his face around Techno’s land again, well… 

That motherfucker was good as dead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techno angry make monke brain go brrrrrrr
> 
> Also there's gonna be another chapter, maybe more, or I might make this a series? I've read so much Tommy and Techno bonding stuff lately and I have too many ideas- but I'm getting ahead of myself. I have a serious addiction to this stuff.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philza has some major issues with feeling like a terrible dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I would like to say sorry for the long wait.
> 
> My winter break for school ended and sports and stuff started up, not to mention how I spent all of last week speedrunning the 5 stages of grief over the 5th and 6th streams. (Nothing happened. Phil is a good dad and Tommy didn’t hurt Techno. He didn’t. *sobs*)
> 
> Anywho, here’s a rather long chapter (by standards of this work at least lol), I legit just wrote all of it in like the last 2 hours, and I’m very proud of the ending.
> 
> I’ve seriously reread the last scene so many times because I just love how it turned out. So excited for you guys to read it!

Hundreds of blocks away, a lone figure emerged from a nether portal, glowing compass clutched so tight in hand it hurt.

His footsteps fell on ash-coated grass, and the air in his lungs felt heavy with smoke, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. The small figure took a fearful step forward, trying to see through the ashen haze.

A cautious cry of “...Tommy?” lost itself in the smog. 

The figure carried on, stepping away from the obsidian portal, steps picking up pace as he moved down the overgrown path towards what should have been Logstedshire. _Should have._

Instead, the smoke slowly revealed a charred crater, twisted remains of iron and tools buried in the soot and charcoal bones of Ghostbur’s happy creation. The boy stopped, feet pressed against the edge of the wide pit, staring in horror at the still-smoldering wreckage. 

He held impossibly tighter to the compass in hand, tears in his eyes as the scene in front of him settled in.

The figure tore his gaze away from the wreck, and carefully climbed into the pit. Each step was cautious, as if afraid of disturbing the stifling atmosphere.

“Tommy?” He called, louder this time.

Still no response.

“Tommy! Are you there?!”

The boy shuffled through the remains, the looming walls of the crater pressing in, sky leaden and grey, weighing on him. It felt suffocating.

With a jolt, his foot hit an object buried in the dust and ash and he paused, reaching down to pick it up with trembling fingers.

From the splintered logs and gravel came a single red shoe, scorched and blackened by flames, the sole partly melted by the heat. 

Tubbo stared at Tommy’s shoe in disbelief.

No. _NO._

He whipped his head up, scanning the area in a panic.

“TOMMY!”

The only response was the gentle brush of ash drifting in the wind.

————————  
_Three-ish days later..._  
————————

Phil stepped out of his house and closed the door behind him with a low sigh. He had a to-do list in hand, a habit of Techno’s that had rubbed off on him over the years.

He glanced down at it, feeling exhausted. After being off server for the past few days, he wasn’t too eager to get back into the swing of things so quickly, but a need to feel productive pushed on him, forced him onto his feet and out into the world. Besides, it’s not like he could catch up on sleep anyways.

_A small, darkened room, signs scattered on the walls._

_Crazed eyes._

_Blood on his hands, warm and thick and burning like acid._

_**“Kill me, Phil.”** _

No, Phil didn’t sleep much these days. 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Phil set off into the lands of the SMP, paying little mind to how unusually quiet and still everything was. He had never been one to scoff at some peace and quiet.

By the time he was nearly at the embassy, though, Phil began to feel a little uneasy.

Where was everyone?

Sure, the SMP had its quieter days, some residents spending time off server or doing such and such out in the wilderness, but the place was a ghost town. Not a single person could be seen wandering the prime path or heard shouting obscenities from a doorstep or rooftop.

Phil’s steps slowed as he passed by the bench, pausing momentarily to brush a hand over the empty jukebox. He heaved another sigh, wings curling tighter around his shoulders.

Phil hadn’t been present the day of Tommy’s exile, and he regretted it with every passing day. Each time he saw Tubbo, the boy looking worn down and so incredibly upset underneath a shaky smile. Each time Quackity made an obscene or offensive joke, and everyone stood waiting for the obnoxious laughter that should have followed. Each time he saw Ghostbur chatting happily with Fundy, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest at the idea that he had failed not one, but both of his sons.

“Hullo Phil!”

Speak of the devil.

“Hello, Ghostbur,” he replied, turning away from the jukebox and his thoughts to give the ghost a tired smile. “How are you today?”

Ghostbur bobbed in the air, a look of concentration on his face as he considered the question. “Alright, I think. I went off to get more blue today because I remember someone needing it really badly, but now I don’t remember who it was for.” Ghostbur paused, looking at Phil. “I don’t suppose you know who it is, do you?”

Phil shook his head. “Sorry mate, I’ve been gone for the past couple days. I could help you look around during my errands, if you’d like?”

Ghostbur grinned, clapping his hands in childish delight and jumping to hover upside-down in his excitement. “Thank you Phil! That’s very kind of you.”

“No problem mate. Why don’t we head this way, and see who we find?” 

Ghostbur nodded, flipping the right way up again before floating merrily down the path, Phil following close behind.

“So Philza, what errands are you running today?” The ghost chatted, bobbing along as Phil traveled along the Prime Path, making his way toward the Community house.

“Well Wil, I’ve got some netherite I need to get for a new pickaxe I’m trying to make, and the plan is to pay Techno a visit later on. Haven’t seen him in a while, need to make sure he’s not too lonely out there.” 

Ghostbur laughed, and the echoey sound made Phil smile, albeit in a bittersweet manner. 

_If only I had stepped in sooner..._ He thought. _If only._

As they approached the community house, Ghostbur darted forward, the first to spot what appeared to be Tubbo and Fundy conversing quietly by the edge of the lake.

“Tubbo! Fundy!” The ghost called, rushing towards them with a large grin and a wave.

Tubbo glanced over, a small, weary smile on his face. “Hey Ghostbur.”

The president’s gaze slid over to Phil, who had begun to catch up, and the smile disappeared.

Fundy followed the look, and seemed to slump where he stood. At this, Phil’s eyebrows rose, a feeling of apprehension settling in his gut at the less than welcoming reactions.

“Everything alright?” Phil asked, coming to a stop next to his floating son.

Tubbo’s gaze fell to the floor, and the boy’s shoulders scrunched up. Fundy glanced over at him in some kind of sympathy, setting a gentle hand on Tubbo’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

The knot of apprehension in Phil’s stomach pulled tighter.

Ghostbur stepped forward, sensing the upset mood. He pulled a handful of blue from his pocket and held it out to Tubbo, who took it with a watery smile and a quiet “Thanks.”

Phil noted that the boy’s hands were already stained blue all the way to his wrists. He swallowed. 

“Fundy?”

Fundy looked at Phil, and the hurt in his eyes made the man’s breath catch. 

“Phil it’s-“ A sigh, slightly choked up, “It’s Tommy.”

Phil stiffened.

“He’s- he’s dead, Phil.”

No.

That couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be true.

“What?” He gasped, breathing much too erratically.

 _Not Tommy. Please not Tommy_.

Fundy’s eyes were wet. “Tubbo went to Logsted to visit him, to check on him, and- it’s all gone Phil. Turned to ashes.”

At this, Tubbo finally looked back up from the floor. His cheeks were shiny with tears. 

“I found his shoe. It was all burnt up and there was so much smoke and I _couldn’t find him_ , I-” he broke off as a sob burst out.

Phil stared at them, frozen.

_I can’t lose another son._

He watched as Tubbo broke down, pushing past them and running down the path, Fundy and Ghostbur watching in concern.

“Do you think he needs more blue?”

_Wil in his arms, bleeding out._

_Tommy, lying lifeless next to him._

Phil took a step back, breath hitching. He needed-

He needed- 

What did he need?

_Blood on his hands, warm and thick and burning like acid._

_Tommy, pale, transparent, and cold, wrapped in a red sweater._

His wings flared of their own accord, begging him to take to the skies.

Ignoring the startled cries of “Phil?”  
he took off, blindly launching himself in the direction of the Arctic. 

He needed Techno.

————————

Phil landed in the snow outside the cabin and stumbled up the porch steps. He leaned against the wall for support, giving the front door an urgent and sloppy knock.

Loud footsteps could be heard from within the house before the door was pulled open.

Techno stood in the doorway, sword ready and in hand, looking as if he had been expecting a fight. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized who was on his front step.

“Phil? What’re you doing here?”

Phil just pushed away from the wall, hugging himself, trying to suppress the trembling in his limbs.

Techno put away his sword, carefully taking Phil by the arm and pulling him a few steps inside.

“Phil? You alright?”

Phil choked, trying to push back against the growing fog in his eyes, his gaze fixed on the planks beneath his feet. “I lost him, Techno. I lost another son because I wasn’t there for him. _I should have been there for him._ And now Tommy is- _oh god_ -“

Phil burst into tears.

Techno, for all of his merits, looked completely and utterly lost by this sequence of events. Shock was quickly taking over the expression on his face as Phil broke down in front of him.

“Phil? What-“

Phil couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had been pushing through, trying to ignore the ache in his chest that had been growing since Wilbur, but now- 

_Both of my sons. I’ve lost both of them._

_**And it’s all my fault.** _

He lurched forward, clutching onto his friend for dear life, face buried in the woolen shoulder of Techno’s Arctic uniform. For a second, Phil was distracted from the ache by the lack of red velvet under his cheek. Why was Techno not wearing his cape? The man never went anywhere without it- where had it gone?

But before he could worry too much about it, Techno tentatively wrapped his arms around Phil’s shaking shoulders, and Phil was sobbing again.

“I lost him- I lost him Tech, _I lost him_ -“ he whispered, tears soaking into the pale blue wool.

Phil could feel Techno look down at him before he was given a gentle squeeze, and Techno cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Phil, I uh...I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstandin’-“

There was a loud bang from downstairs, and Phil startled, lifting his face from Techno’s shoulder. He could feel the blotchiness of his cheeks, the tears on them feeling uncomfortably cold in the chill of the still-open door.

More banging came from the basement, and a loud thump shook the floor under their feet.

Phil looked up at Techno, and instead of the look of surprise or murderous intent that would be expected in the event of an intruder, was faced with- was that _fondness?_ Sure, it was hidden under three layers of annoyed as hell and a pile of pissed off, but it was there.

“Mate, what’s that sound? What’s going on?” He practically pleaded, feeling far too light-headed and floaty, too many emotions swirling in his chest to feel stable on his own two feet.

Techno opened his mouth to respond-

“‘EY BITCH BOY!”

The yell echoed up from the basement, far too loud and smug for the heavy atmosphere of the main floor.

Phil froze where he stood, hands clawing deeper into Techno’s clothing.

_That had sounded just like-_

“I got the logs ‘n’ shit you wanted- be proud of me ‘cause it’s fuckin’ cold out there and I hate the cold, it hurts me toes-“

A head of blond hair popped out of the floor, followed by skinny limbs plastered in bandages and... _oh_.

That’s where Techno’s cape went.

Phil slowly pulled away from Techno, staring at the boy who still hadn’t noticed his father’s presence in utter disbelief. Phil stumbled forward a step, tentatively reaching out a hand towards his son- _his son_.

“Tommy?” He whispered, the word trapped in his throat.

_Please, please let this be real._

_Please._

Tommy’s head snapped up, eyes wide as saucers and full of shock.

“Wha- _Phil?!_ ”

In an instant, Phil lunged forward, pulling Tommy tight to his chest and burying his face in the boy’s hair. The fluffy curls smelled like Techno’s soap, and Phil held him there, reveling in the fact that Tommy was warm and here and _alive_ -

Tommy responded in kind, holding back with a ferocity and strength Phil didn’t know the boy possessed. The only sound to be heard was quiet sniffles and half-swallowed sobs, a damp spot growing on the front of Phil’s shirt as Tommy trembled in his arms.

Almost regretfully, Phil pulled his face from Tommy’s hair for a moment to look up at Techno, who was standing by the door looking faintly amused and adoring in the way only Phil could detect. 

Techno caught Phil’s teary gaze and nodded, understanding what his oldest friend was trying to convey without the need for words.

_Thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk when the next chapter will be up, I have finals, a speech meet and the PSAT coming up in like the next week so it may be a while. If I never update again, assume I’ve passed away.
> 
> BUT! You must stick around because it’s the chapter you’ve all been awaiting for: our pal Dream will finally make an appearance and get the shit beat out of him. It’s gonna be great.
> 
> Thanks for all the love so far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are fluffy and great. Don’t worry about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! We’re back with what will be a double update because this chapter somehow got so freaking long I do not understand how this keeps happening-
> 
> Also the finale am I right? AHHHHHHHHHHH IT WAS SO GOOD
> 
> I did really good on my chem final, so that’s neat. Have this as a celebration.
> 
> Also thanks so much for all the kudos you guys! We’ve broken 500, let’s go!! You’re all awesome :)

It had been roughly a week since Techno had first found Tommy in the snow, 4 days since Phil had come to him in tears.

After the tearful father-son reunion, they had all settled in the living room around the fire, enjoying the comfortable warmth. Techno had his book, content to read in the soft glow of the fading afternoon. Every so often, he would glance away from the pages at the pair currently occupying his couch, hiding a soft smile behind the cover.

Both Tommy and Phil had fallen asleep, partly obscured by the pearlescent black feathers of Phil’s wings. Tommy was drawn close to his friend’s chest, head tucked under Phil’s chin, his father’s nose pressed firmly into the messy tangle of blond hair.

It was so horribly domestic that on any other occasion Techno probably would have gagged and fled the room. This time, though...

Well, let’s just say he hadn’t missed the dark circles underneath Phil’s eyes, or the way his hands trembled, or how Techno had to call Phil’s name multiple times to get his attention when he got that glazed-over look. Techno didn’t mind seeing Phil at ease like this, not at all.

He pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, trying to offset the lack of a familiar weight. Red velvet poked out from beneath Phil’s wings.

The fire crackled and popped, snow brushing the windows as the light began to disappear over the horizon, and the little house was at peace.

That had been the last moment of peace the cabin was going to see in a long time.

Living with Tommy was... _different_ , to say the least. Techno had escaped the full force of the kid’s personality in the few days before Phil showed up, simply because Tommy had spent so much time running around doing tasks.

 _Running from something,_ Techno thought, grimly, reminding himself he wasn’t concerned when Tommy simply could. not. sit. still. Because he wasn’t concerned, just annoyed by the constant, skittish movements and loud rambling.

After Phil moved in with them, the kid’s typical loudness had only increased tenfold. And yet, something still seemed...off. 

Tommy had gained a little more weight, the food bringing a more life to his complexion and weight to his bones. But getting him to eat in the first place- that was something not so easily done.

_”Here,” Techno said, holding out a bowlful of broth. “You need to eat something, you’re so skinny it hurts me to look at.”_

_Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’m more handsome than you’ll ever be, bitch. You wish you could look this good.”_

_Despite the bravado in the comment, Techno could see the wavering confidence in Tommy’s eyes. The flicker of apprehension as the kid looked at the proffered bowl._

_Techno held it further out, giving the bowl a little shake for emphasis. “Take it.”_

_Tommy stared at the soup, hands digging into his arms, shoulders shrinking in. “I- I’m not hungry. You’ll just be wasting your food on me.”_

_Techno stared at him, perplexed. Tommy loved food. Hell, put the kid in a kitchen alone for a couple hours, and you’d come back to empty cabinets._

_At least, that’s how Tommy used to be._

_He stepped forward and grabbed one of Tommy’s hands, choosing to ignore the flinch he got in return for the contact and shoved the bowl into Tommy’s hand._

_“Eat.”_

_Tommy looked up at him and nodded jerkily, taking the bowl over to the table and slowly making his way through the broth, glancing back at Techno every so often as if waiting for a catch that would never come._

Over the week, Techno and Phil quickly picked up on some other things that really _were_ concerning, even by Techno’s standards.

Loud, unexpected sounds were a no-go, especially shouting. Sudden movements caused flinching, Tommy’s arms always moving up to cover his head, bracing for a hit. Even when the kid was arguing or yelling at them in typical “I’m a Big Man” fashion, there was a hesitation there, an underlying current of fear or lack of enthusiasm behind the words, as if Tommy was only fighting back because he felt he had to, _needed_ to. It was unsettling, to say the least.

The most important change they’d had to adjust to was the asking for things rule. If you needed something from Tommy, you always phrased it as a question, never a demand. And unless you wanted to be cussed out in a way that would make a sailor proud or be faced with panic and tears, you always had to promise to give the item back.

With each flinch, strained laugh, and hurt look from Phil each time they rushed into Tommy’s room in the middle of the night because the kid’s own cries weren’t enough to wake himself up, Techno’s anger only grew, and the shouting of the voices along with it.

_Blood for the Blood God! **KILL DREAM** Raccoon is sad- AVENGE HIM_

Luckily for Chat (and his own sanity), Techno’s opportunity came sooner than he expected.

———————————

Tommy was having a rather good day so far, he had to admit.

Phil had baked a cake in the morning, and the reaction from Techno when he found out Tommy had eaten the last _three_ pieces had been priceless. 

“Really Tommy? Phil literally baked that cake this mornin’-“

“Should’a gotten here faster then, Big T. Not my fault you’re slower than a’ old man. Ugly as one, too.”

Techno sighed, exasperated. “You’re going to get sick, eating all of that shit at once.”

“Big men don’t get sick, _Technoblade_ ,” he argued, muffled by the massive bite of cake he had just taken. “And incase you forgot, ‘m a Big Man, bitch!”

(Techno hadn’t really been mad, more annoyed that Tommy had eaten so much sugar when he was still recovering, and was actually pretty relieved Tommy had eaten without asking permission for once. But Tommy didn’t need to know that.)

Then, he had found some blank maps in one of the basement chests, and had decided to put them to good use. The present moment found him seated at the dining room table, drawing horrible portraits of himself to replace the various posters Techno had displayed around the house. Phil was sitting next to him, drinking a mug of coffee, lost in thought.

Phil had taken one look at Tommy’s drawings, stifled a laugh, and decided to sit with him until he was finished with the art project. Now the two sat in comfortable silence, Phil sipping his drink and Tommy scribbling madly, laughing under his breath as he drew.

Techno came down the ladder from the top floor, arms full of books he was using for some sort of project. Tommy hadn’t bothered to find out what it was, if it involved that much reading, he’d take a pass, thanks.

Techno set the books down on the table with a thump, jostling Tommy’s pen. He looked up at the Blade through his overgrown hair, glaring. 

“You’re ruining my masterpiece, potato man. Take your disgusting reading habits somewhere else, please.”

Techno snorted. “Just because you’re illiterate doesn’t mean you’re better than everyone else is, Tommy.”

“That’s because I’m already better than everyone else, idiot. I’m the handsomest man to walk the earth. The ladies fuckin’ love me.” He crowed, pushing his hair out of the way and returning back to his maps.

Phil chuckled, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “You need a haircut, mate. You can’t even see anything.”

Before Tommy could respond, there was a knock on the door. Everyone tensed, unsure how to react.

“Knock knock! Techno? Can you let me in? I can’t dodge the snow when I’m knocking, and now I’ll melt.”

They all slumped with relief, Techno sighing and going to open the door. “Hey, Ghostbur.”

The ghost grinned. “Hullo!” He floated through the doorway, expression brightening even further when he caught sight of Tommy and Philza at the table. “Phil! Tommy! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

The ghost rushed over and gave Tommy a hug, which really felt more like a very concentrated cold breeze, but Tommy tried to appreciate it none the less. “Hey, Wil.”

Techno closed the door, leaning against it with arms crossed. “No offense Ghostbur, but how’d you even get here? Your memory, if I recall, is a bit uh... patchy, and there’s no way you made it here on your own.”

Ghostbur looked up from where he had been hovering over Tommy’s shoulder, admiring the drawings Tommy held up for him while playing absentmindedly with Tommy’s hair. “Hm? Oh! I just followed Dream!”

Tommy dropped the picture.

“W-What?”

Phil set down his coffee cup, sharing a nervous glance with Techno, before looking back at Ghostbur. “Dream is coming here? Are you sure about that mate?”

Ghostbur nodded happily. “Yup! He should be somewhere on the edge of the trees. I recognized them and ran ahead so I could see you all sooner.” He gave them all a grin, spreading his arms. “Now I’m here!”

“Shit,” Techno cursed, running over to the chests on the back wall near the fireplace. Tommy stayed frozen, eyes locked on the front door.

_Dream knew where he was._

_Dream had found him._

_**Oh god-** _

“-ms? Toms? Hey, breathe, it’s gonna be alright, you’re safe,”  
He looked up as a hand landed on his shoulder, Phil’s worried face swimming back into view. “Tech and I will protect you.” 

Tommy nodded, pushing unsteadily to his feet, trying to feel less afraid than he was. Techno rushed back over, shoving a handful of different potions at Tommy, uncorking a silvery-blue one -invis- and dumping the contents over his head. Techno grabbed his shoulders as Phil moved to put his sword in its sheath, strapping it on. _Preparing for a fight._

“Tommy, I’m gonna need you to listen to me. You gotta hide, don’t make any sounds, nothin’. He’s probably not here for you, but whatever happens, you do not leave your hiding place, alright?” 

Tommy have a stilted nod, trying to push down the panic crawling up his throat. Techno guided him over to a wooden box in the kitchen, helping him, making sure he still had the other potions in hand before giving Tommy a reassuring nod and shutting the lid. 

God, it was dark. He tried to focus on his breathing, and clamped a hand over his mouth when the sound of his own breaths rang too loud in his ears. 

_He’s going to find me._

_Dream is going to find me and take me back-_

_**No. I can’t go back PLEASE-** _

The box was already too small, too suffocating- 

For the second time that day, someone knocked on the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there’s typos- no there isn’t.
> 
> It’s 4:39 am right now. I wrote this whole chapter in one sitting. Forgive me


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Local green man gets his ass kicked (Not clickbait!!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The one you’ve all been waiting for. The reason this fic was written. 
> 
> I’m actually happy with this section of the chapter, the ending is so dramatic I love it lol

Phil opened the door, carefully schooling his expression into one not full of the burning hatred swirling in his gut.

He was met with a grinning mask, and barely resisted the urge to punch Dream’s lights out here and now. But attacking him would prove that there was something wrong, and that would only put Tommy at risk, so he forced a smile instead. “Dream. Didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Philza,” the man said, gesturing into the house. “Mind if I come in?”

Phil didn’t move. “It’s Techno’s home, not mine. You’ll have to ask him.”

Phil stepped aside, allowing Dream to see Techno quietly lecturing Ghostbur, most likely explaining to the ghost the importance that no one mention Tommy. “Tech?” He called, grabbing his friend’s attention. “Dream is here to see you.”

Techno glanced over, face perfectly sculpted into a look of indifference. “Let him in, I guess. I don’t want to have a conversation outside, it’s cold enough with my door open like this.”

Phil stepped fully out of the way, allowing Dream into the house, every muscle tensing as the admin walked by. He watched Dream scan the room, seemingly looking for something. Dream’s attention fell on the table, still scattered with Tommy’s drawings.

_Shit._

Dream sauntered over to the table, and Ghostbur hastily backed out of the way, knocking over a chair in the process, startling Phil with the loud crash. “Sorry!” Ghostbur called, scrambling to push it back upright and causing a louder commotion as his hand slipped through the wood, nervousness seeming to make it difficult to become corporeal voluntarily. By now, Dream was at the table, picking each drawing up one by one, looking them over, giving away nothing. Techno crossed his arms, knuckles white, hands in a tight fist.

“What are you doin’ here, Dream?”

Dream sighed, setting down the pictures. “I’m looking for Tommy.”

Phil sucked in a breath involuntarily, flinching when Dream looked at him, having obviously caught it.

“He ran away from Logstedshire, and I need to get him back. It’s my job to enforce his exile, after all. God knows a kid like him needs someone to keep him in check.”

Phil’s hand traveled down to the hilt of his sword, instincts begging him to run the prick in front of him through right now.

"Last I heard, Tommy was dead," Techno said, giving away nothing.

Dream shrugged. "L'Manberg thinks so. I have a harder time buying that, believe it or not. A burnt shoe isn't exactly _proof_."

Techno hummed, noncommittal. “If he's alive, then why'd you think he’d be here?”

Dream shrugged. “He’s got nowhere else to go. Everyone hates him.” This last sentence was said a little louder, as if Dream knew Tommy was in the room, listening. There was a quiet whimper from the direction of the box, which Ghostbur tried and failed to cover with a coughing fit. Phil tensed further as Dream turned his head in the direction of the sound, just for a split second before turning back to Techno.

“Dream, you know as well as I do that Tommy hates my guts,” Techno deadpanned. “He’s not here, despite what you may think. Sorry to disappoint.”

Dream clicked his tongue in disappointment before giving an obviously over-dramatic sigh. “Well, it was worth a shot. I really just want him to be safe, is all. Philza would understand.” He looked over at Phil, who stiffened, wings flaring defensively.

Dream casually stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets, wandering back towards the door, pausing by the table to give the maps one more glance, humming thoughtfully. Phil had to remind himself to breathe. “I’ll be going, then. Don’t wanna intrude on your retirement, and all.”

“How kind of you,” drawled Techno.

Dream moved past Phil, who slowly backed up past the table to stand by Ghostbur, the three of them watching the man open the door. Dream paused in the doorway, looking out at the snow, humming again in agreement to some thought of his.

Quick as lightning, Dream spun back around, pulling his crossbow from his back. Before anyone could react, a bolt was cutting through the air and punching through the walls of the unassuming wooden box with an unbearably loud crunch.

The world came to a standstill.

_No._

A strangled sound clawed its way out of Phil’s throat as they all stood there, staring at the splintered wood. Slowly, a bright red liquid began to seep onto the floor, staining the wooden boards. He didn’t move, _couldn’t_ move, red swimming in his vision. 

“Tommy?” Ghostbur whispered, voice small and wavering.

Phil tore his gaze away from the scarlet floorboards to look at him, startled by the tone. Ghostbur’s body seemed to be flickering, flashes of brown settling over his shoulders, disappearing and reappearing again rapidly. The ghost floated a little closer to the box with an outstretched hand, face contorted in an expression Phil couldn’t find the words to describe.

No one else said anything.

Dream casually slung his crossbow over his shoulder and leaned against the doorway, stance relaxed, as if this were just a pleasant afternoon visit. As if he hadn’t just _killed Phil’s son._

“Well,” the smug bastard said, a sick grin peeking out from underneath the bottom edge of the mask, “I think we’ve all learned something valuable here today.”

“Oh yeah?” Techno spat through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to the door. “And what’s that, Dream?”

The man shrugged, still smiling. He pulled his free hand from his hoodie pocket, gesturing lazily in their direction. “Philza here has a terrible track record when it comes to keeping his sons alive. I mean, 0 for two? Might want to work on that one.”

Phil sucked in a a sharp breath, shrinking in on himself as his wings came up to shield him. The world blurred, the red puddle across the room swirling in his vision.

_Kill me, Phil._

_It’s Tommy. He’s- he’s dead Phil._

The tension in the air was palpable, a wire pulled taught and ready to break.

Dream pushed himself away from the doorframe. “I’ll be going, then.” He took one last glance at the wooden box, smile widening as a crazed laugh burst forth. “I suggest you clean that mess up, though. Wouldn’t want you to ruin your real estate, would we Techno?”

The wire snapped.

With a roar, Technoblade lunged forward, fist slamming into Dream’s face faster than anyone could blink.

———————————

He couldn’t help but grin at the burning feeling in his knuckles, at the cracks snaking through the white porcelain in front of him.

_YES BEAT HIM- **Blood for the Blood God!** Dre is getting wrecked lol-_

Techno swung again, striking Dream in the gut, and the man stumbled back, onto the porch. Dream quickly pulled his crossbow off his shoulder and aimed for Techno’s chest, but a kick to the knee knocked the shot off course.

Behind him, Techno heard a yelp of pain, and he glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening as he took in Phil clutching a hand to his shoulder. There was red staining his blue robe.

Dream took advantage of Techno’s momentary distraction to swing at his chest with the crossbow, knocking him into the doorframe. Techno lunged again, ripping the weapon away and tossing it behind them over the railing and into the snow below. 

The fight devolved into a flurry of punches and kicks, both too pissed and caught up in it to bother drawing a weapon. Techno grappled with Dream, both of them now outside on the front step, and he spun to give the green bastard a hard elbow to the face. Dream returned in kind with a swift kick, and Techno slammed into the railing, falling to the ground.

There was a momentary lull in the exchange of blows, both pausing to catch their breath. Techno shook out his bloody knuckles, too caught up in the thrill of making this fucker _pay_ to care about the voices and their delighted yelling.

Dream glared through the cracks on his mask, by now a few chunks had fallen away and now an acid green eye was visible, burning with anger. Techno’s blazing red returned the gaze.

Dream began to rush forward again, and Techno moved to stand, to meet him with another satisfying punch, to teach him a _lesson_ -

Dream halted mid-step, stumbling to a stop. He looked down, shock in his visible eye.

Techno’s eyes traveled down too, widening at the sight of Phil’s sword sticking out of Dream’s gut. Dream gasped, knees buckling underneath him as the sword was wrenched out, falling to the ground as his sweatshirt soaked through.

As the other man fell, Techno looked up, expecting to see his friend standing there, eyes full of righteous anger. Instead, the doorway was occupied by the last person Techno expected to see.

Ghostbur- no, _Wilbur_ stood in the doorway, Phil’s stolen sword clutched in a white knuckled grip, brown eyes dark and furious. He was still a ghost, clad in the fluffy sweater and red beanie, but the old, ragged Pogtopia coat sat comfortably on his shoulders. He looked... more solid? Less translucent, with more color in his cheeks, in his eyes.

Dream let out a gasping breath, hands pressed to the gaping wound in his stomach. Techno could only watch as Wilbur kicked Dream’s shoulder, forcing the man onto his back in the snow. A foot pressed down on a trembling shoulder, green eye staring up at furious brown. 

Wilbur leaned down, teeth bared, the point of the sword hovering over Dream’s throat.

“You never should have hurt my little brother, you fucking _prick_.”

The sword came down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Tommy dead? Is Tommy alive? Who knows?
> 
> (Not you guys lol)
> 
> Also! The crossbow scene is inspired by a work called “Become King Again” by @rorygrade, go read it it’s a fantastic fic and deserves lots of love
> 
> Edit: You guys yelling at me in the comments about the cliffhanger is fucking hilarious and I'm having far too much fun with it. But because the next chapter might be a while and I'm a great person, I'll give you a hint as to what happened to Tommy. Two words: Despicable Me
> 
> I hope someone figures it out because I will absolutely lose my shit if that happens.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the encounter with Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I would like to say thank you for giving me so much attention, as I crave validation and I love all of you for giving this work so many kudos and hits. Y'all are the best, seriously. Also, your comments on the last chapter are all fucking hilarious and I was losing it reading each and every one of them. Watching you all panic was entertaining, ngl. 
> 
> Apologies for taking 5 years to get this chapter out. Every time I sat down to write this I kept literally passing out because I write best at one am and chronic sleep deprivation doesn't agree with that. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this last chapter guys. I hope the ending does this work justice.

Phil ignored the din of the fight taking place on the front porch in favor of launching himself towards the wooden box.

Red soaked the knees of his pants as he knelt, furiously working to wrench apart the warped hinges and splintered planks. Phil dug his hands into the wood and yanked, desperation making his movements sloppy. With an earsplitting screech, the wood gave way, and Phil blindly groped inside the box, grabbing a hold of Tommy and pulling him from the darkness.

_Please be alright. Please be alright. PLEASE-_

Tommy came free from the confines of the box with a clatter and screech of glass as the potions Techno had filled the boy’s arms with rolled across the floor. Phil payed them no mind as he scanned his son’s body, searching for any sign of life (or a wound to prove the opposite).

Tommy’s entire front was soaked in red, his stolen pastel-blue shirt shimmering with bright, scarlet liquid. Phil fumbled for a pulse, hand smearing swirls of red across Tommy’s neck as he searched.

There. 

A beat. 

Another. 

Phil slumped with relief, falling back to sit in the puddle on the floor. A slightly hysterical laugh burst from his chest as he attempted to breathe properly, tears dripping down his cheeks unnoticed. He leaned forward and pulled Tommy into his lap, cradling the unconscious boy in his arms.

Distantly, Phil registered the lack of sounds coming from the fight on the porch, but didn’t spare it a thought until there was a loud clatter of a sword on wood, as if someone had dropped a weapon.

His communicator pinged with what he instinctively knew to be a death message, and he looked up just in time to see Wilbur burst through the front door. The manic, insatiable glint of anger that had been present when Wilbur had demanded his sword was gone from the ghost’s eyes, replaced by nothing but desperation and worry. Wil’s gaze fell on Tommy’s prone form lying in Phil’s lap and he gasped, staggering towards them.

“Is he alive?! Phil, please tell me he’s alive- _god there’s so much blood..._ “

Phil let out a shaky breath as Wilbur joined him on the floor. “He’s got a pulse, I checked.”

“ _Fuck_.” Wilbur collapsed with relief, falling forward to press his forehead against Tommy’s, breathing erratic. He placed a soft kiss his brother’s forehead, hand already buried in Tommy’s hair. “I thought I’d lost him, Phil,” he murmured. “I saw that bastard shoot and it all came flooding back, my memories of you, of _him_. I thought I’d come back, gotten it all back, just to see it all torn away, right in front my eyes. Wouldn’t that be ironic?”

Wilbur let out a shaky laugh, and Phil released part of his grip on Tommy to set a hand on his other son’s back, trying to comfort him despite the roiling emotions swimming under his own skin.

 _Sounds familiar,_ he thought.

Wilbur suddenly jolted, pulling away from Tommy and Phil’s hand, the panicked look taking over again. “W-wait...Phil, the blood! We have to stop the bleeding! He’s still bleeding, we need-“

“Calm down, nerd. Kid’s fine.”

Wilbur whipped around to stare incredulously at Techno, who Phil hadn’t even noticed come back into the house. His friend was crouched by the remains of the wooden box, back facing their small huddle.

Wilbur spluttered, moving as if to launch to his feet in protest of Techno’s interruption, before realizing that would require him to relinquish the remainder of his hold on Tommy and deciding to stay put. “What do you mean _fine_ , Techno?! He’s covered in blood! Dream _shot him!_ ”

Techno sighed, reaching forward into the darkness of the box to retrieve something. “No, Wilbur, he didn’t.”

“Yes he did! We were all right here, we all saw the fucking arrow go into the box. Why else is there blood all over the floor, you prick?”

Phil placed a placating arm on Wilbur’s shoulder, still surprised by how solid his son felt. “Breathe, Wil.”

“I’ll breathe when Techno decides to stop being so damn cryptic!”

“For god’s sake Wilbur, stop shittin’ yourself,” Techno huffed, turning to face them, something glinting in his hand. “Dream didn’t shoot Tommy, the idiot shot _this_.”

Techno held out his hand, the shattered remains of a potion bottle resting in the palm. Phil could see a few drops of scarlet potion still clinging to the glass. Craning his neck, he could see more glass shards winking in the shadows of the box. Realization dawned on him. The _potions_. The healing potions Tech had given Tommy.

“Holy shit,” Phil breathed, looking down at his son and the slickness on the floor. It wasn’t blood, it was _potion_. And a lot of it. “Dream must’ve hit multiple bottles, that’s the only explanation for how much of it there is.”

All three glanced at the box, the feathered shaft of the arrow just visible from where it was lodged in the wall. Phil knew they were all thinking the same thing.

_Tommy was lucky as all hell._

With a grunt, Techno tossed the broken bottle back into the box, ignoring the crack of glass and kicking the broken front back into place. Phil struggled to his feet, careful not to disturb the passed out teen in his arms. Anger since appeased, Wilbur rose with him, refusing to relinquish contact with his brother. Phil ducked his head, hiding a smile.

_He had his boys back._

Techno absentmindedly rubbed his bruised knuckles, staring at the floor and thinking hard about something. Phil could tell. That was his “I’m concerned with something that’s important to me but I also can’t let people think I have emotions” face.

Phil cleared his throat, disturbing the tired silence. “Why don’t you go have a lie down, Tech? You’re looking a little worse for wear, no offense mate.”

Surprisingly, Techno didn’t argue, just let out a low chuckle. “It’s not the fightin’ Phil, it’s the social interaction. Can’t believe I had to hold an entire conversation today. With _small talk_ , too. It’s just so inconsiderate.”

Wilbur reached out to shove Techno’s shoulder, smirking. “Oh, poor _Technoblade_ , ever the tragic victim. I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.”

Phil snickered, and Wil’s grin grew. Techno huffed, sporting a small smile of his own. 

_(They had missed each other.)_

Phil hoisted Tommy higher in his arms. “I’m going to go get us a change of clothes, I’m all sticky. Then I’m taking a nap. Feel free to join me.” He turned and made his way up the stairs, gently setting Tommy down on Techno’s bed. Phil began rifling through the chests in search of clean clothing and some bandages for the glass cuts littering Tommy’s arms. The soft creak of oiled hinges and rustling cloth were accompanied by slow huffs of air from the bed. Phil found what he needed and let the lid of the chest drop shut, leaning against it for a moment to study his son’s face. 

It was obvious that something had caused Tommy to pass out while in the box, shock proabably, but the boy had slipped into a deeper sleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. Phil watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the last dredges of anxiety working their way out of his system, leaving him well and truly exhausted. He slumped further, letting the events of the past hour catch up to him. 

He had almost lost Tommy. _Again._ He really had. He had been mere inches away from burying his remaining son, felled by a psychopath with a god complex at the ripe age of 16. Phil sucked in a shaky breath, willing away the exhausted tears in his eyes, refusing to think about it right now.

_Tommy’s okay. Techno’s okay._

_Wilbur’s_ back _, for god’s sake._

There’s no need to get worked up right now.

He hauled the armful of fresh clothes over to the bed, quickly changing his and Tommy’s stained outfits. Gently, he wiped down Tommy’s forearms, loosely bandaging them and vowing to do a better job when he wasn’t so worn out. Scooping Tommy back up, Phil made his way back downstairs, planning to pass out in front of the fire for the next few hours.

Upon reaching the main floor, he couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently, Techno had beat him to it, snoring quietly in his cushy armchair, new logs popping and crackling in the fireplace. Wil was sat at his feet, leaning against Tech’s legs eyes closed. Upon hearing Phil’s footsteps they opened, his head turning to follow Phil’s movements to the couch.

Phil collapsed with a groan, sinking into the cushions with Tommy held against his chest, wings coming to wrap around them in a fluttering, black blanket. He set his chin on Tommy’s head, eyes slipping closed. Moments later, there was a slight dip in the couch, and a wave of cool pressure settled over his feet. Quietly, Wil began to hum.

Waves of heat radiated from the fireplace, settling into Phil’s bones, dragging him down towards sleep. With a sigh, he finally let his muscles relax, residual tension purged from his bones as he settled further into the couch. Contented with the sounds of faint snores rumbling beneath the light notes of Wilbur’s tune, he buried his nose in Tommy’s slightly sticky hair, letting himself drift off. 

They’d deal with the stain on the floor later. They’d deal with Dream later.

For now, Tommy was safe in his arms, and to Phil, that was the only thing that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this! The feedback has been overwhelmingly kind and I've had a blast interacting with all of you. 
> 
> Feel free to stick around, I have more content planned inspired by this one fic where Tommy runs away from exile and returns as a badass dad. It's such a good work, and I have plans for all the SBI angst because canon fucked me over and now all I have left to hold onto is fanon Fatherinnit. 
> 
> Love you guys, until next time. *salutes*


End file.
